So this is a spin off of my Everlie story :) It's mainly about Millie's and Wyatt's lives with a little of the other kids so yeah... hope ya like it :) Thanks to Rose-TheDaughterofHades for helping me pick a name :) And there's a pic of what Millie looks like on my profile :)

Enjoy!

Chapter 1

I sit perched on the edge of my bed, waiting for the signal that I always get close to this time every night. Just the little flash of a bedroom light being turned on and then off. A car drives by at the same time that I think I see the flash.

I slide off my bed and walk over to the window, leaning on its sill. Despite knowing I'm completely safe in the woods, I still don't like being in there by myself this late at night. I consider flicking my own light switch but he's probably already left him bedroom so that would be just pointless.

Continuing to stare out my window, I wait to see if he leaves the house. I only have to wait a few seconds before I see a mop of black curls sneak out of the Uley's back door. Smiling, I leave my window and go to find my jacket.

It's early September and going out in just pajama pants and a tank top is no longer an option. Once I slip out of my door, I tiptoe down the hallway – making sure to be extremely quiet when I walk by my parents' door.

It's become more of a habit to be quiet than a necessity really because they know where I go almost every night. They never say it out loud or speak of it, but I've been doing it for the past three years and not once have they told me to get back into bed. Plus, with my dad's hearing, he'll hear me no matter how quiet I am.

Putting on my shoes, I leave the house and sprint through my back yard until I hit the forest edge. It's really dark in there and if I didn't know the path so well, I'd definitely get lost. As I tread through the slightly overgrown brush, I wonder how my parents reacted the first time they found out I was gone.

Clearly, they must've known where I was because my dad overreacts at everything and I don't even want to think what he would've done if he found his twelve year old missing. Then again, if I think really hard back, I believe him and Sam were on patrol that night. It's shocking that my dad didn't come and drag me back to the house in wolf form.

Our first time out in the woods was also the same year that I found out about the pack. Our parents decided it was good for us to know about the shapeshifters – me especially since my dad has such a huge temper. So when Bridgette Uley and I were twelve, they told us. I thought it was freaky but Bridge didn't really react. She just dealt with it; that's how she was with everything. Even the imprinting story didn't get an outburst from her. We're kind of complete opposites. I think that's why we're good friends.

Once I did get used to it, I was mad at Wyatt Uley, her brother, for a while because he knew for three years and he never told me. We told each other everything – well, almost everything. He's always been my best friend. I'm way closer to him than I am to Bridge even though there's a two and a half year difference between me and him.

It was the first day I stopped being mad at him that we came out into the woods. And ever since that night we've come out here at least four or five days a week. Sometimes more, rarely ever less.

When I finally arrive at the clearing where we hang out at, Wyatt's sitting at the bottom of the large oak tree. He's reading something on his phone and doesn't notice me arrive. The moon light brightens up the clearing so we can see – the main reason we come here – and I can't help but admire him before he sees me.

At seventeen – almost eighteen – he stands at around six feet tall. He has the signature Quileute russet skin but he has these gorgeous hazel eyes that drive most of the girls at La Push High insane as well as silky black curls that instantly make you want to feel them. Of course, Wy and I are just friends and he's more interested in girls his own age, but I still can't manage to not like him that way.

Not that I'd ever tell him.

"Hey, you could've picked a better time to signal me. Like, you know, maybe when a car wasn't driving by," I tease him sarcastically, stepping into view.

He looks up, grinning lopsidedly at me. "And here I was thinking you just didn't want to come visit me."

I roll my eyes and drop down beside him. Leaning back against the solid tree, I snatch one of the muffins off his lap. "And miss your mother's delicious muffins? Not a chance, Wy."

Pouting, he picks up his own muffin. "Oh, so you only come hang out with me because of the food I bring? Ouch."

I smirk, giggling. "Do you really think I'd lose this much sleep over a few muffins?"

"Nah." He grins devilishly, throwing his arm around my shoulder. "I know you come here to admire my extreme hotness."

I'm glad that the clearing isn't that brightso he doesn't see my blush. Mostly because he'd never stop teasing me about it. "Save is for the girls at school, bud."

Wyatt snickers. "Oh they'll get plenty," he jokes, wriggling his eyebrows at me.

I shake my head, laughing. "Wy, I really don't want to hear about your sex life."

"Oh come on, Emi. You know I'm just kidding. Besides, you know your my number one girl." He pushes me playfully until I burst out laughing. If only he meant in the way that I wanted.

"All right you little pedophile."

Wyatt smirks. "Please. You look like you're eighteen. There's no way I'd look like a pedo."

I punch him in the shoulder, glaring at him although I know it's true. Unlike my mother, who's almost thirty-eight and still looks like she's in her late twenties, I look a lot older than I am. I in no way look like a fifteen year old.

We eat our muffins in a comfortable silence until he finally asks, "Are you excited for tomorrow?"

I shrug. Terrified is a better word. "Not really."

He rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "You'll be fine. I swear, the first week of high school isn't that bad. And the only way you'll get rookied is if I tell someone to – which I won't – because you don't look like a freshman. As we already clarified."

I snort, glad for once that I do look older. I start grade nine tomorrow and La Push High has a tradition of writing on freshman's faces with permanent markers. They call it rookying. Only, now they also use whiteout and put shaving cream in people's hair just to make the first day even scarier. Great welcoming, huh? "I hope I don't," I admit. "So do I get a drive to school tomorrow?"

He pretends to ponder. "I suppose so. But I'm not driving your little friend."

I stick my tongue out at him. "Well, you probably won't get that far then 'cause I doubt your mom will let you leave without your little sister."

Wyatt groans dramatically, standing up away from the trees. "We'll see, Mealworm, we'll see."

Glaring at him, I stand up and start climbing the tree until I'm at the fork in the branches where I usually sit. "If you call me that at school tomorrow, I'll never speak to you again, Wyatt Uley."

"Ooh." He pretends to shake. "I'm so scared." Then he grins up at me, taking my breath away just a little bit. "Come on, Emi, you know I only call you that when we're alone."

He's right, too. He does only use that nickname when it's just the two of us. Personally, I wish he never used it. It's gross and disgusting. I think back to when I was ten and he was thirteen, the first time he called me that.

Wyatt and I are at a little creek that's off a path that leads from First Beach. My momma always tells me and my little brothers that we're not allowed in the woods unless we're with an adult. But Wyatt convinced me to come in with him, promising that he'll keep me safe.

I'm sitting on a rock to the side while Wyatt is wading in the creek. He's inspecting the fish which I think is pointless. We don't know how to fish and we're not fast enough to catch them.

"You need a fishing rod to do that Wyatt," I tell him, feeling really smart.

He smiles at me, shaking his head. "I'm sure we could catch one if we tried. But you're probably too scared of fish."

"Nuh-uh!" I exclaim. "I could catch a fish if I tried."

He considers telling me to try but decides against it. "Well, it's really slippery in here so you might fall. Let's do something else."

"Like what?" I ask, sliding over on the rock so he has room to sit too.

Wyatt shrugs, kicking the sand at his feet around. I notice a bunch of worms in the sand and shriek. Quickly, I scramble around to get my feet out of the sand. He just chuckles and picks one up. I scream again, scared that he's going to throw it at me. Everett and Eric had made a game of it last time it rained.

"Calm down, Emi," he says, "I'm not going to put it on you. I just think they're cool. Did you know there's worms called mealworms?"

I shake my head. "Why would I care? Worms are gross."

"Well, you could be a Mealworm."

I glare at him. "That's mean. I'm not a worm."

"No, because your name has meal in it."

"No, then it would be Millworm 'cause my name is Millie, dumby."

Wyatt smirks. "Your real name is Emilia though. So Emilia has meal in it. Get it now, Mealworm?"

Pouting, I cross my arms over my chest. "Don't call me that!"

Wyatt grins, pleased with his new game. "All right, Mealworm, let's go back to the beach."

"You're really annoying sometimes, you know that Wy?"

He laughs, reaching for one of the limbs and pulling himself into the tree before resting on another large limb. "So you've told me."

"My mom said at one point, you used to be really nice."

"Puh-lease, I'm still nice."

I smirk, something my mom always teases me about. Apparently it's the same as my dad's. "Maybe." It's true though. Wyatt's nice to everyone. Him and Bridge are the same in that way. Only Wyatt more outgoing and teases people so everyone thinks Bridge is the nicer one. Personally, I think they're the same. "She was telling me about when Bridge was born though."

Groaning, he rolls his eyes. "Oh great, what did I do?"

I giggle. Wyatt used to love my mom. She was his favourite person besides his parents when he was a kid so I get told a lot of stories about him. Usually embarrassing ones. "When she took you to the hospital to see them, you cried and cried and cried because you didn't want a little sister."

"Can you blame me? I was just trying to tell everyone not to keep Bridgette," he quips, but I see the blood rushing to his cheeks. He was a big crybaby when he was little, something he's always embarrassed about.

"Then, when my mom held her, you called her a traitor and wouldn't talk to her for like weeks." I'm about to continue my story but Wyatt makes his way over to my limb and places his hand over my mouth.

"No more stories, Emi, or I'll tell you a story about you that you really don't want to hear." The glint in his eyes tells me it's really embarrassing and that I probably don't want to hear it.

"What's it about?"

"You don't want to know."

"How do you know?"

"Because," he says simply, smiling at me, "I know you."

I smile back thoughtfully. That's really an understatement. I fail to hold back a yawn which makes Wy laugh and ruffle my hair. "Better get the baby to bed," he jokes, hopping down from the tree.

I do the same, but stumble on my landing so he has to steady me. I do it most nights, but I still haven't managed to land properly. Maybe it was my subconscious not allowing me because it knows that it means a few more seconds of him holding me.

Oh god, I'm so pathetic sometimes. "Yeah, I guess we better get you into bed. Do you need a blankie?"

He scoffs – blushing as he remembers the dig was directed at yet another one of his embarrassing baby stories – leading me through the woods. When we get to our yards, I stop. This makes Wyatt look back in concern. "You okay?"

I nod. "Yeah, I just kind of find it weird that our parents don't mind us coming out here all the time."

Shrugging, he looks up at the sky. "I've never given it much thought. Why dwell on a good thing?"

"It's just weird."

He shoots me another lopsided grin before he starts towards his house. "Good night, Emi."

"Night Wy."